


Early Summer Rain

by Saraste



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Femslash Friday, First Kiss, Fluff, Kissing in the Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 13:56:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18605917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: Rain makes the rest of the world disappear and there are just them, just them and their touch and their words the falling raindrops drown words that are just theirs, will always and ever be just theirs.





	Early Summer Rain

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about pansmione a bit for a while, but trying to write something that felt ok proved difficult. Then we got a bit of rain today and I just thought "Pansy and Hermione kissing in the rain" and that was that.
> 
> This is set late on year eight, in early'ish June, as I currently head-canon Pansy as not having attended Hogwarts during their Seventh year, so she would finish her education alongside Hermione. 
> 
> [Katajainen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katajainen) has been enabling me when I've been thinking about pansmione, thank you, dear!

Their first kiss is in pouring summer rain, drenching them through their clothes, making them shiver from chill as well as excitement as they run for a nearby tree, book-bags bouncing as they go, slipping on wet grass, holding each other up, hand in hand.

It’s been coming all year, glances over books in the library, blushing as each has _accidentally_ brushed against the other when they’ve passed in the halls, knees coming together under tables during shared assignments in Potions, all little things leading to this, even when they were never little at all. Now they’re here, under this tree, looking at each other with longing, panting a little from running, each wishing this is it, that this is the moment it happens, the day, the hour, the minute, the second between breaths until their lips finally meet. Pansy has raindrops in her lashes, shining like glass, making her prettier than ever, she looks a picture of Snow White with her ivory skin, ruby-red lips and raven hair, not that Hermione cares, she’s not vain. Hermione's hair is bushy from the damp and she doesn’t look close enough to a fairy-tale princess like Pansy does, Pansy still sinks her fingers into it as she pushes her against the bark at her back, is leaning close, breath close, kissing close. ‘Please,’ Hermione gasps, touching her hand on Pansy’s cheek, her dark skin a contrast to hers. ‘Hermione…’ Pansy says. They close the distance together, consent given, agreement reached.

Pansy’s lips on Hermione’s lips are soft, her body pressing perfect and soft against Hermione’s own, and she sighs into the kiss, the warmth of it enough in the damp chill, which she finds herself caring for very little now that there are Pansy’s fingers in her hair and her waist and Pansy’s lips on hers in their first kiss, eager and exploring.

Rain makes the rest of the world disappear and there are just them, just them and their touch and their words the falling raindrops drown words that are just _theirs_ , will always and ever be just theirs. The tree they've taken shelter under isn't living up to its name in the early-summer pour, yet they giggle with abandon when not kissing, hands touching faces and settling on hips, lips searching each other's for another kiss and another and another, they can’t seem to stop now they’ve started, nor do they want to, giddy with it.

Eventually and still all too soon the rain stops and they have to leave, now shivering in earnest in their wet clothes as even the heat of their kisses couldn’t warm them up, and both has been too preoccupied to realize they could have cast an umbrella charm, too interested in each other. They walk hand in hand up to the castle, drenched throughout, lips kissed red, destined to spend days in bed with a spring-cold by the end of the day. But neither can care, not in that moment, not in that precious bit of time when all there is and can be is their joined hands and the words they have shared and the understanding that they have started something wonderful, that they are _them_ now.


End file.
